


who said romance was dead

by pouncival



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, this is the best prompt ive ever gotten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-12 02:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10479678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pouncival/pseuds/pouncival
Summary: Anonymous said to centrecourfeyrac:prompt: spot and race meet each other at three am in a Denny's parking lot prepared to fight each other. what they didn't expect was to start making out with the other.





	

**Author's Note:**

> bold is spots texts, italics is races! pls kudos/comment if u like, yadda yadda. hope you enjoy!!!

When Spot couldn’t sleep, he went for late night walks around Brooklyn. These walks happened at least once a week, more often than not more. Although Brooklyn was still alive at night, being part of the city that never sleeps, Spot knew it like the back of his palm. He knew where would be quiet now, where the parties were being held, and what parts to avoid if he wasn’t looking for a fight.

He was used to the dark, the silence. What he wasn’t used to was his phone buzzing in his pocket. No one contacted him at this time- except for the Brooklyn newsies group chat, which he had on mute and only checked during the daytime.  
When he opened his phone, he didnt expect to see a facebook notification from Race.

_ayy_

Yes, sure, he knew Race- he sold in Sheepshead, the only Manhattan newsie to sell in Brooklyn. And Spot made sure it stayed that way. He kept an eye on Race sometimes, whether when selling or heading into the races, or crossing the Brooklyn Bridge. It was to make sure he wasn’t bringing anyone else in, Spot justified.

And he only let Race sell because he was constantly at the races, and it wasn’t like anyone else important was selling at Sheepshead. It wasn’t even an amazing spot. Okay, well, it was pretty good, but it was just convenient to let Race sell there instead of creating a fuss with Manhattan, so that’s why Spot had allowed it. No other reason involved. Race happening to be cute was completely irrelevant to him being allowed to stay and sell. But just because he sold in Brooklyn, didn’t mean the two of them talked. Pausing, Spot typed a quick reply back, and Race replied almost immediately.

 **what**  
_i said ayy_  
**y**  
_cause im fuckin talkin to u_  
**bcause?**  
_cause ur the only other 1 awake at 2:54am_  
**k**  
_dont k me_  
**k**  
_dont_  
**k**  
_stop that_  
**k**  
_fight me_  
**k**  
_ok lets go_  
**k  
** where  
**dennys **  
****_u think im kiddin?  
_ _dennys  
3am_  
 _be there or be square ** **  
**** _**k**  
_oh ur goin down_

Spot found himself laughing quietly at the conversation, smiling down at his phone. Okay, sure. Race was funny. Whatever. That didn’t mean he liked him, in any way, shape or form.  
Still, Spot turned around and headed to the closest Dennys.

It was 3:14 am when Race turned up to the empty parking lot that Spot had been loitering in. Spot looked up. If he was honest, he hadn’t expected Race to actually come. He raised his eyebrows, and Race, who was doubled over and breathing heavily, held up a finger.

After a few seconds, he stood up straight and laughed. “Realised I didn’t tell ya which Denny’s. So I been to three of ‘em. Just ran here from the one that way,” he gestured over his shoulder, “An’ the two closest to the bridge before that.”

“You coulda just texted me again.”

“My last comeback was too good. I couldn’t double text.”

Spot rolled his eyes, sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning against the back of the Dennys wall. There was an awkward air between them both, as if neither had expected the other to come, and wasn’t quite sure why they came themselves. But weirdly, Spot found himself wanting to be here.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come. Was gonna just sit ‘round here anyways,” he lied, nodding to the Dennys. “Makes good burgers.”

Race laughed, rolling his eyes. “Sure you was.”

Spot found himself at loss for how to continue the conversation. Luckily, Race piped up again. “So, why was you online at three, huh?”

“None of ya business. ‘Sides, you were online too.”

“Yeah, I was.”

There was another pause. Longer. Spot stared at the ground. Race spoke again.

“You know, I seen ya watchin’ me.”

Spot blinked. “What.”

“Y’know, ‘round Brooklyn? Where I’m sellin? You don’t think I wouldn’t notice?” The bastard was smirking. Spot scowled at him, hands balling into fists.

“Yeah, you from Manhattan. Can’t trust you?”

Race was a step closer to him. “‘S that all?” Spot was clenching his fists tighter.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ all.”

“You sure you ain’t into me?” Asshole.

Spot swore he was going to go in for a punch. Really, he was. He just happened to grab Race by the shirt and pull him down to his level. And then kissed him, hard, and Race kissed back. Race pressed one hand against the wall, the other wrapping around Spot’s neck. But Spot wasn’t going to let himself get pinned to a wall so easily, and he grabbed Race by the waist and flipped their positions, pressing himself against Race who simply just leaned closer into the kiss, making it rougher.

When they pulled away, both of them stared at the other for a while. Before kissing again. And then again. They made out for what felt like barely ten minutes when they finally stopped, panting, Race’s forehead leaning against Spots.

Race grinned. Spot couldn’t help smile back (though he’d describe it firmly as a smirk).

“Wanna fight at Dennys more often?”

Spot nodded.


End file.
